


Stranger Titans

by WhistlingFox



Series: Stranger Titans AU [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Bullying, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Hange Zoë, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Past Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Psychic Abilities, Stranger Things AU, The Upside Down, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-02-28 23:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13282050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhistlingFox/pseuds/WhistlingFox
Summary: When young Armin Arlert disappears after a night of DnD at Eren's house, Eren, Jean, and Marco set out to find their missing friend. After meeting a strange girl in the forest, the group begins to realize their small Indiana town may not be as innocent as it seems.**CURRENTLY ON HIATUS**





	1. The Vanishing of Armin Arlert

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Just wanted to let the you guys know that this is my first time writing in a long while so please excuse any mistakes. This will be following the story of Stranger Things with some changes along the way. Please let me know what you think and if I should continue this!

The stillness is broken by the sound of a heavy metal door slamming open, revealing a man in a bleach white lab coat and bulky, horn-rimmed glasses. His polished shoes slapped harshly against the tile as he sprinted down the vacant hallway. From behind him, an alarm let out a continuous, forlorn wail. The flood lights splashed the hall in orange every other second, adding just the tiniest bit of extra light to the slightly dimmed fluorescent lit passageway. The man skid to a stop at the end of the hall, his calloused finger slamming repeatedly into the elevator button. His eyes trained themselves over his shoulder, staring anxiously at the door he had previously come from. The elevator opened with a light ding and the man practically threw himself into it. He stared down the path he’d just came from in detached horror, chest heaving with heavy, frightened breaths. His finger subconsciously continued to jabbed the button to close the enormous doors. 

Just as the gears began to click and the doors started to seal him inside, a low rumble sounded. The man froze, every hair on its end as he waited for the source to appear from the end of the hall. Except… It never did. The rumble sounded again, but he realized in horror that it was much closer than he originally perceived… As if… As if it were right on top of-

The man was lifted out of the top of the elevator with a scream before being permanently silenced. 

 

In the quiet, unassuming town of Hawkins, Indiana, nothing ever happened. Kids went to school, adults went to work, life went on as if even the smallest detail was already planned out for all of the inhabitants of town. Right now, the roads were all quiet as most of the locals had already retired to their houses for the night. Along one strip of suburbia, a house sat with its windows emitting a gentle source of light. Within the house, shouts of courage and mutterings of planning could be heard from beyond the basement door. 

At the center of the room sat four boys circled around a foldable table. On the table laid a board with multiple figurines sat on top of it. Three of the boys leaned in anxiously as they listened to the brunette at the head of the table, slowly uttering, “Something is coming. It’s hungry, hungry for blood. A shadow stretches across the wall behind you, the darkness beginning to swallow each of you one by one. It’s almost here-”

“Oh, god, what if it’s the Demogorgon? We’re so screwed if it’s the Demogorgon,” One of other boys said, his dark hair partially hidden beneath his cap while his face showed a light splattering of freckles. 

The boy next to him scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “C’mon, Marco, it’s not the Demogorgon.”

The smallest of the group spoke up before the two could squabble, “What is it?”

There was a long pause, the brunette looking at his friends with a mischievous glint in his eye before his hands flew up from behind the dungeon master’s screen and slammed a small, reptilian figurine onto the board, “An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!”

Marco’s expression instantly relaxed as he breathed out, “Oh, thank goodness.”

“See, I told you,” The boy next to Marco, Jean, smirked and put his hands behind his head. The three players giggled while the dungeon master looked around nervously with wide, timid eyes. He interrupted their joy with a sinister whisper, “Wait a minute… Do you hear that? That… That sound.”

“What is it, Eren?” The boy beside the brunette asked, looking comprehensive.

Eren peered at his friend darkly, “I don’t know, Armin, it… It didn’t come from the troglodytes.” In a deep, slowly raising voice, he began to say, “Boom… Boom… Boom… It’s coming from something bigger… Deadlier..It’s… It’s coming from...”

Marco, Jean, and Armin leaned in as Eren looked around, his voice making every sound effect louder and louder until-

“The Demogorgon!” Eren yelled, slamming the figurine of a hideous monster onto the board. 

“I told you, Jean! Damn it, I told you!” Marco cried out, looking as if he were on wits’ end.

“Armin! What’s your action?” 

The blonde looked up anxiously at Eren as he responded, “I don’t know!”

Jean immediately said, “Fireball him!”

“I’d have to roll a thirteen or higher!”

“That’s too risky.” Marco shook his head, “Cast a protection spell.”

“Don’t be a pussy! Fireball him!”

“Cast protection-”

“The Demogorgon is tired of your stupid bickering! He stomps toward you, boom!”

“Fireball him!”

“Boom!”

“Cast protection, Armin!”

“Boom!”

Armin threw the dice with a frantic yelp, “Fireball!” The dice skid across the table, falling haphazardly off of the side. The party gasped, Jean letting out an, “Oh, shit!” They all scattered, looking desperately for the dice to see the outcome for their beloved characters. “Damn it, where did it go?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Was it a thirteen?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-”  
“Eren! Eren, come up here please!”

The door opened to reveal Carla Jaeger, her hair spun into a messy braid and her eyes showing an exasperated fondness. Eren looked up indignantly, “Mom! We’re in the middle of a campaign!”

“You mean the end? Fifteen after.”

Eren ran up the steps, following his mother as she disappeared back into the kitchen. The other three boys continued to search restlessly for the dice, silly bickering and complaints of having to leave flying around the group. 

The dungeon master skid to a halt in front of his mother, “Wait, mom, just 20 more minutes! That’s all we need!”

Carla sighed, “It’s a school night, Eren, you can’t stay up all night playing that game. You can finish next weekend.”

“But this campaign took two weeks to plan! How was I supposed to know it was gonna take ten hours?”

Carla paused mid-step, “You’ve been playing for ten hours?”

The two stared at each other for a few moments before Eren sighed and turned to his father, who was fiddling with the television. “Dad, don’t you think 20 more minutes would be-”

“Listen to your mother, son,” Dr. Jaeger replied, grumbling as his readjustment of the tv antennae did nothing to improve the signal.

Eren sighed and rolled his eyes, turning to go back to the basement.

 

“I found them!” Armin called, straightening up with the dice in his hands. He looked at them thoughtfully then to his two friends and asked, “Does a seven count?”

“It was a seven?” Jean asked. At Armin’s nod, he further prodded, “Did Eren see it?”

“No?”

“Then it doesn’t count,” the light-haired brunette responded, quickly pulling on his jacket and running upstairs. Armin and Marco looked at each other before shrugging and gathering their own coats. Marco paused as he was getting ready when he noticed their open pizza box still hand a slice left.

He turned to the blonde next to him, “Hey, Armin, want the last slice?”

“No, thanks. I’m pretty full.”

The taller boy nodded then picked up the box before turning and walking up the stairs. He quickly went to the stairs near the living room and climbed them as well, coming to the second level of the house. He approached one of the three bedrooms. Inside was a tall, slender girl with chocolate hair and tanned skin, freckles sprinkled across her much like Marco. She laid across her bed with a bored expression, shuffling through a variety of photos spread out in front of her.

Marco cleared his throat, “Um, hey, Ymir. I was just wondering if you wanted our last slice of pizza?” He smiled as the teenager looked up at him. He became hopeful when she smiled back and stood up.

That hope was quickly extinguished when the girl promptly closed the door in his face.

 

“Your sister seems really grumpy lately.” 

Eren turned away from where Jean and Armin were getting onto their bikes to look at Marco. The freckled preteen settled onto his own bike as Jean chimed in, “High school turns everyone into jerks, man. It’s just who she is now.”

“What do you mean now?” Eren asked. “She’s always been a jerk.”

“No way, Eren, she used to be really cool,” Marco said. “Like that time she dressed up like an elf for our Elder Tree campaign.”

“That was four years ago!”

“Still.” With that, Jean and Marco began to peddle away.

Eren sighed, about to turn in for the night before a soft voice stopped him with, “It was a seven.”

“Huh?” The brunette asked, looking at his remaining friend sitting on his bike.

“It was a seven,” Armin repeated. “The Demogorgon, it got me.” The two just looked at each other for a long moment before the blonde smiled and began to peddle away, “See you tomorrow, Eren!”

Eren grinned after him, the carefree expression faltering as the garage lights above him flickered. He shrugged it off as faulty wiring, ignoring the unease in his gut as he made his way back inside.

 

Armin quickly caught up with his friends just as Jean was turning into his driveway. The boy called over his shoulder, “Night, ladies.”

Marco smirked, “Tell your mom I said hi, Jean-bo.” He and Armin chuckled when the other’s face turned slightly red before disappearing into his garage. Marco looked back over to Armin, “Hey, wanna race to my house? Winner gets a comic.”

“Any comic?”

“Any comic.” With that confirmation, Armin took off down the hill toward Marco’s house. The raven-haired boy squawked out, “Hey! That’s not fair, Armin!”

The two laughed and shouted back and forth as they raced down the darkened street. Eventually, Marco’s house came into view and Armin pedaled even harder to increase his already growing speed from the descend. He glided past Marco’s house with a cheerful, “X-Men 134, please! Later, Marco!”

Marco slowly stopped in front of his driveway, grumbling, “Goddamnit…”

 

Armin continued on his way to his house, a small place that was located just outside of the local suburban area and right next to the woods. The pale yellow street lamps were the only thing illuminating his way, tree branches stretched above him like black fingers against the night sky. The blonde, however, felt no fear. He’d taken this route many times before during both day and night. Nothing ever happened to him before, so why should he worry n-

A tall, slender shadow stopped Armin’s thoughts in their tracks.

The shock caused him to veer off of the road and into woods beside him. He tumbled off of his bike with a small yelp, his hands coming up to shelter his head from any serious blows. Quickly, he scrambled up from where he had landed and bolted in the direction of his house. He’d only seen the dark figure for a split second, but eerie vibe it had given off along with those long, clawed hands told everything within him to run. His blood rushed in his ears, the thumping of his heart sounding like ominous footsteps to his frightened mind. He willed his legs to carry him faster through the thick brush, finally catching sight of his home through the foliage. He panted from the exertion, his body anything but athletic. Armin couldn’t have clutched the screen door fast enough, throwing it open to reveal his quaint, dimly lit home.

He immediately began to call out, “Mom! Historia! Hello?!” His fear spiked when no response came. He dashed to the phone, quickly dialing the work number he was told to use for emergencies. The line was busy, but Armin continued to desperately yell, “Mom! Mom, please pick up!” A loud stomp made his voice die in his throat.

Slowly turning, Armin looked at the front door only to see the same ominous shadow standing right outside the small window. The squeaky sound of metal sliding on metal alerted him that whatever that… Thing was, it was slowly undoing the deadbolt. It…

It was going to get in.

Armin dropped the phone, the receiver smacking against the wall as he ran to the backdoor. He ran outside, trying to keep quiet so that the intruder wouldn’t hear him changing locations. He threw himself into the old, rickety shed they had outside, immediately locating the family's old rifle amongst the other discarded junk. Armin picked it up and scrambled to find some bullets, snatching them from the workbench drawer. Pale fingers shakily fumbled as they slid the bullets into place, locking them into their slots with a click. 

Armin pointed the muzzle of the gun to the door and waited. Small, whimpering breaths escaped him as the air around him seemed to grow colder. He knew whatever was outside his front door had seen him run and there was only so much time until he was found. 

Outside was utterly silent; not even the ruffling of leaves in the wind could be heard. A cold chill crawled up the preteen’s back, his shudder shaking the aim of the rifle. Nothing was happening. Why was nothing happening? Could whatever that shadow was have moved on? Why wasn’t it-

A low growl.

The flickering of the old shed light bulb.

 

And just like that, Armin had vanished.


	2. Missing Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented on the previous chapter, it really means a lot! This chapter does contain homophobic language, but it is very brief. I'll be updating sporadically because school and work kind of limit how much time I have to write. Thank you so much for reading and I'll just apologize now for any mistakes you may find.

Hange sighed as she pulled on her short-sleeve jacket, her brown nametag slumping lazily against the dark blue fabric. She slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing when she didn’t hear the familiar sound of her keys being jostled by the movement. Quickly, she dove her hand into the bag and searched, coming up with nothing but her wallet, bandaids, and a few other miscellaneous things she had thrown in there over time. Exasperated, Hange called out to the kitchen, “Historia! Do you know where my keys are?”

“I haven’t seen them,” a light voice replied. “Are they not in your purse?”

“I’ve already checked, they aren’t there,” The brunette responded, coming out of her room and traveling to the kitchen. At the stove stood her oldest child, blonde hair falling flawlessly down her back as she diligently continued to mix and stir the scrambled eggs in the pan. Hange had adopted Historia when she was six years old, along with her brother Armin who was only two at the time. She had fallen on hard times since then and had to work very hard to support their small family, but she never once regretted adopting the two wonderful children she had in her life. 

Historia took the pan off of the stove and the served the eggs she had made onto two nearby plates which also held two pieces of toast each. She then threw the pan into the sink and began helping her adoptive mother. She quickly began feeling along the couch and under each cushion. After finally feeling the metal ridge of the keys, she called out, “Found them!”

“Oh, good, thank you, Historia,” Hange said, giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek. She looked around for a moment before asking the blonde, “Hey, where’s Armin?”

“Probably still sleeping,” Historia answered, taking the two plates off of the counter and placing them on the table. 

The brunette sighed, “Historia, you’re supposed to wake him up!”

“Mom, I was making breakfast-”

“I told you this a thousand times.” Hange quickly made her way back down the short hall to her son’s bedroom, gently knocking on the door. “Armin? C’mon, buddy, it’s time to get up.” She waited for a long moment, brow furrowing when no response came. Her eyes widened when she pushed open the door only to discover an empty bed and a vacant room. Hange instantly swiveled around and walked back to Historia.

“He came home last night, right?” she asked.

“He’s not in his room?” Historia said, her face starting to show some concern.

“Did he come home or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I-I came home late; I was working.”

“You were working?”

“Yea, I was asked to pick up a shift and I thought we could use the extra money,” Historia looked down at the table, guilt beginning to bleed into her blue eyes. “Armin knows the way home and nothing has ever happened before, so I just thought…”

Hange shook her, “Historia, we’ve talked about this before. I appreciate that you want to help out, but you can’t take shifts while I’m working.”

“Look, he was at the Jaeger’s last night. Maybe he just decided to stay over?” Historia supplied, shrinking slightly at Hange’s disappointed look. 

The mother quickly made her way to the phone, pushing up her glasses distractedly as she dialed the number of her son’s best friend. 

 

Eren rubbed his eyes sleepily as he sat down at the table, grabbing the bottle of maple syrup and drizzling some over his eggs, bacon, and toast. He glared at the snort that came from next to him, Ymir smirking at his breakfast.

“That’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Hey,” Carla interjected with a point look, “none of that.”

The sudden ringing behind her drew Mrs. Jaeger out of being the peacekeeper to her children, prompting her to stand and walk over to the phone. She picked up the mustard yellow receiver, answering, “Hello?”

“Hi, Carla it’s Hange-”

“Eren, what the hell?!”

“Quiet!” Carla called, silencing her son’s snickers, but doing nothing to erase the annoyance on her daughter’s face. The syrup now drowning Ymir’s breakfast gave her all the info she needed on what exactly had happened. She turned her attention back to the call. “Sorry about that.”

“No, no, that’s alright. Is that Armin I hear back there?”

“Oh, no, that’s just Eren.”

“Armin didn’t spend the night?”

“No, he left a little after eight,” Carla felt worry creep into her from Hange’s nervous tone. “Is he not home?”

There was a long pause. And then, “You know what? I think he just left early for school. Thank you so much. Bye!”

“Okay, bye,” Carla replied, her concern growing as she hung up the phone.

 

Hange hung up the phone, both hands tangling into her hair in stress. Her dark eyes looked over at Historia, the blonde biting her lip with anxious eyes staring back with an unspoken question.  _ What do we do now? _

 

Eren, Jean, and Marco rode up to their school on their metal bikes as they did almost every morning, each rolling into their designated spot at the bike rack. As Eren hopped off and readjusted his backpack on his shoulders, his head swiveled left and right as he searched for the familiar blonde head of hair. After a long moment, he commented, “I don’t see him.”

“His mom said he came to school early, right?” Jean asked, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Maybe he’s already in class.”

“It’s not unlikely,” Marco added, walking alongside them. “Last time he was late, Mr. Weilman made him do a pop quiz.”

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The trio came to an abrupt stop, their faces turning into expressions of vague annoyance as they were approached by two boys. Both of the boys weren’t much to look at, one as spindly as a twig and the other appearing a bit plump. Their fathers, however, were fairly wealthy and that alone gave them reigning power over the other kids in their grade.

The smaller of the two, Waltz, stepped forward with an arrogant smirk, “Step right up ladies and gentlemen! Looks like we’re right in time to get our tickets to the freak show! Say, Flegel, which one do you think would make the most money at a freak show?” He went down the line, punching each in the shoulder as he listed off, “Horseface, Maniac, or Freckles?”

Flegel pointed his pudgy finger at each of them, thinking to himself quietly before deciding, “I’d say Freckles, what with his weird-ass arm thing.”

“Yea, do it, freak!” Marco frowned, looking away in embarrassment before Waltz repeated himself in a darker tone, “I said, do it.” 

Sighing, Marco shrugged off his jacket and his backpack, letting them slump to the ground in defeat. He then put his hands together and twisted his arms, making a resounding crack. The bullies both made faces of disgust, laughing as they pushed passed them, “Ugh, gets me every time!”

Now that the humiliation was over with, the dark-haired boy bent down to gather his things. Seeing his friend’s downtrodden look, Eren said, “You know, I thinks it’s pretty cool. Kind of like a superpower.” Jean nodded encouragingly beside him as Marco straightened up.

“Thanks. Not like I can fight evil with it, though.”

With that, the three went to class.

 

Historia made her way to her locker with a troubled expression, her thoughts revolving around her brother. Hange encouraged her to go to school while she looked to the police department for help. That did nothing to quell the worry churning in the blonde’s stomach. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the small touch to her shoulder. 

“Sorry, Historia, didn’t mean to spook you,” Mina said, lowering her hand with an apologetic smile. 

Historia shook her head and sighed, “No, it’s fine, Mina. I-I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You’re thinking about Reiner, aren’t you?”

“What?!” The teen yelped, almost dropping the book she was getting from her locker. “No! Why would you think that?”

“Oh, don’t pretend it isn’t obvious,” Mina teased. “Everyone can see the way he looks at you. Plus, you and I both know you two have hung out together.”

“Please, that was a one time… Maybe two time thing. Anyways, that’s not what I’m thinking about,” Historia gathered her things and went to close her locker, pausing when she saw a piece of folded paper wedged into the corner. Upon taking it out and unfolding it, it read:

_ Meet me in the bathroom  _

_  -Reiner _

“Just a two time thing, huh?”

“Shut up.”

 

Upon meeting with Reiner at the bathroom, things went about as expected. In an instant, the tall, muscular teen locked his lips to Historia’s in a way that could only be described as hungrily. Historia kissed him back for a few, short moments before pulling away. “Reiner-” she breathed, pulling back further as he continued kissing her. “Reiner, I have to go to class.”

“Well, hey,” Reiner said, grabbing her bag and handing it to her, “let’s do something tonight, okay?”

“I can’t,” came the short reply as Historia grabbed her bag and swung it onto her shoulder. “I’ll be studying.” She didn’t want word to get out yet that something may have happened to Armin. She wanted to keep the hope she still had that whatever was going on was nothing serious and maybe the blonde was just hiding out somewhere. He’s always been good at hiding.

“Studying? Historia, your GPA is like 3.99999-”

“Yea, I get it.”

“Why don’t I come over and help?”

“I’m studying Chemistry which, if I remember correctly, you failed”

“Hey, I got a C.”

“A C-.”

“Well, we could always just, you know,” Reiner gently took the blonde’s hand, “hang out in my car, go to a nice, quiet place.”

“I’m sorry, but I really have to study. Maybe some other time,” Historia said, her tone telling Reiner that her decision was final. With a quick kiss to his cheek, she left the bathroom and made her way to class. 

 

If there was one thing Levi Ackerman had always hated, it was mornings. The sun was always too bright, the birds were always too loud, and he knew that from the moment he left until the moment he laid back down for the night, he was going to have to deal with the endless complaints that seemed to just flow from the elderly residents of town like water from an open spout. Not to mention that, as he rolled off the couch and trudged to the bathroom, he was welcomed with an all too familiar hangover. 

In fact, everything he did this morning was all too familiar. The all too familiar steam coming from the water being spat out by the showerhead which would be too short for most, but was fairly comfortable for him. The rough feeling of his uniform as he shrugged on the beige jacket and pants. The smooth swallow of his pills being chased by the cheap beer he had picked up a few nights before. The clink of his lighter as he lit his cigarette.

Everything was familiar, everything was routine, and yet, Levi couldn’t discern whether or not this familiarity made him feel content. He tried not to dwell on it though. He often found the more you thought about something, the less content you become.

So he didn’t really think about what the receptionist was saying to him as he walked past her and toward the donut box. He heard the words “Mrs. Zoe” and “missing” but didn’t spend a moment longer on them. He didn’t even really think about her exasperated huff as he grabbed his mug filled with tea and went to his office.

He did, however, find himself forced to pay attention when he was greeted with the sight of an anxious Hange Zoe smoking a cigarette in his office. 

That was how Levi, chief of police in Hawkins, found himself typing up a missing child report on his rickety, old typewriter. Hange paced in front of his desk, taking long drags from her cigarette and pulling on her hair in thought. She ranted, “I’ve been waiting here over an hour, Levi.”

“And I apologize again for that, Hange,” Levi said, looking up at her with tired eyes.

“I’m going out of my mind-”

“Look, a kid his age is probably just out playing hookie or something.”

“No, he’s not like that. Armin wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, you never know, my mom thought I was on the debate team when I was really just smoking behind the gym and getting money off of any jackass who thought he could beat me at poker.”

Hange looked at Levi for a long moment before sighing, “Yea, well, Armin’s not like you. He’s not like me; he’s not like… Most. I mean, he has a few friends, but a lot kids just- They’re mean. They call him names, they make fun of him, they laugh at him, his clothes-”

“His clothes?” Levi inquired. “What’s wrong with his clothes?”

“I don’t know, does it matter?”

“...Maybe.”

“Listen, alright, he’s a sensitive kid. That-Ugh, that guy I was business partners with a while back-”

“The wackjob who became a priest?”

“A minister and yes. Nick, he...He would sometimes say Armin was weird,” Hange winced at the memory. She brought her voice down to a whisper, “He called him a fag.”

“Is he?”

“He’s missing! That’s what he is!”

Levi thought for a moment and then asked, “When’s the last time you heard from Nick?”

Hange shook her head and took another quick drag of her cigarette, “I don’t know, I guess… Last I heard he was in Indianapolis, but that was a year ago. Listen, Levi, he has nothing to do with this.”

“Why don’t you just give me his number-”

“He has nothing to do with this, trust me-”

“Hange, it’s best that we just check and make sure. It’s not impossible that he ran off to Nick’s place for whatever reason. Ninety nine out of one hundred times when a brat goes missing they run off to either a relative or maybe a close family friend.” 

“What about that other time?”

“What?”

Hange let out a shaky breath, “You said ninety nine out of one hundred. What about the one?”

“Hange, this is Hawkins,” Levi placated. “You want to know the worst thing that has ever happened here while I was chief? You want to know the worst thing?” Before Hange could respond, he answered, “It was when an owl mistook an old woman’s wig for a nest and attacked her.”

“Fine,” Hange conceded. “I will call Nick. He’s much more willing to talk to me than talk to-”

“Some guy?”

“A cop. Just,” Hange looked at the shorter man with desperation in her amber eyes, “find my son, Levi. Find him.”

 

The fluorescent lights flickered above them, the air filled with odd spores that looked like dead skin. Everything was cold, like it was touched by death itself. Except, it was alive. Pulsing like a decaying heart, vines spreading across the walls like some sort of pathogen. Their breaths fogged the clear plastic of their hazmat suits, the material being the only thing protecting them from the toxins surrounding them. 

They stared at the source of the hideous vines. A dimmed red light showed from beyond, getting brighter for a few moments before dying once more. It held no warmth, but it held life. A sort of life that had no humanity. A life that seemed to lie in wait so that it could put an end to others.

One voice spoke up, “Is this where it came from?”

The man at the front of the group nodded, his eyes cold yet holding a fascinated glint as he responded, “Yes.”

“And the girl?”

 

“She can’t have gone far.”


	3. Without a Trace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren, Marco, and Jean learn that their friend has disappeared. A strange girl appears inside the kitchen of Farlan's diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Sorry for the long wait, school and work have been crazy, plus I got hit with a bit of writer's block. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll apologize now for any mistakes.

The dead, bristling pine needles bit at the bottom of her feet, the small rocks and brittle grass scraping her heels as she pushed onward. Her gown, despite the all of the muck and grime, still smelled like the disinfectant chemicals of that hell she once thought of as home. The sun was bright in a way that hurt her dark, grey-brown eyes. The fluorescent lights could only dream of producing such pure light and gentle heat. The wind held a slight chill as it nipped at her. There were so many sensations. So much color.

There wasn’t time to think about that.

The low growl that came from her stomach told her that her current mission was to find food. Out here, there wasn’t a person in a white coat to deliver it to her; she had to find her own. But, where would one even start?

As if an oasis in a desert, a small building appeared a little ways outside of the woods she had been stumbling through. The white side door opened to reveal a slender man holding a large, black bag. He quickly deposited it into one of the silver cans along the building before heading back inside.  One whiff of the air that had escaped the building told her all that she needed to know. There was a food in there. She’d never smelled anything as good as it before and the aroma made her stomach groan in want. Quickly, her feet carried her down the small slope of land to the building, caution making all of the hairs on her body stand on end. The trek seemed to last an hour when it only lasted a few moments, the possibility of being found making her shudder.

She gingerly pushed open the side door, immediately being hit with the soft sound of friendly voices and dimmed music. Apprehensive, she trekked into the building, ducking into the closest door, away from the large room filled with people. Through a small opening on the wall, she saw a couple of men sat in booths, the same blonde from outside delivering them two white plates with what she assumed to be food on top.

Speaking of which, she needed to find some for herself. On the short white counter, like a gift sent by an angel, sat a small, black basket with the same food she had seen in the diner. She approached it wearily, unsure if eating it would truly be wise. Her stomach’s growling made the decision for her. She grabbed one of the yellow strips from the basket, its salt and grease marking her fingers. Slowly, she took a bite, letting the taste settle onto her tongue.

It was delicious. 

Salty and crisp, with a soft inside. She wanted to compare it to the white slush she was given back in that place, what Papa had called, “Potatoes.” But, she couldn’t. This was far better than any of those piles of flavorless mush. 

She wanted more.

Picking up the rest of the pile much like a sandwich, she lifted the fries to her mouth and took a large bite, and then another. Just as she was almost to her third-

“Hey! What are you doing back there?!”

She looked up, the blonde haired man was staring at her with enraged, pale blue eyes. 

She grabbed the basket and ran.

She was so close to the door, so close to being free-

He grabbed her arm. The man spun her around and gripped her with a firm hold as he yelled, “Think you can steal from me, boy?!”

A beat of silence.

“...What the hell?”

In his grip stood a frightened, wide eyed girl with a buzz-cut head and a faint red stain on her upper lip. 

 

After a brief struggle and numerous reassurances that she wouldn’t be hurt, Farlan finally managed to calm the odd child who had snuck into his kitchen enough to stay while he dealt with the confused patrons sitting in the dining room. He flipped his closed sign and, after they finished their meals, he sent the remaining diners off with a strained smile.

Turning around, he called to the back of the diner, “Come on out, everyone’s gone now.” A few moments passed before he heard the padding of bare feet across linoleum and the shaved head of the mysterious girl appear from around the corner of the doorway. He grinned in a way that he hoped was encouraging, “It’s alright, just take a seat at that table and I’ll make you something to eat. I’m guessing you’re still hungry?”

No response.

Farlan sighed, making his way to the kitchen knowing that this was going to be a long night. He fired up the grill, throwing a patty onto it before moving to the fryer. In the dining room, he could hear hesitant footsteps make their way to a table and the sound of a chair being dragged back as the child presumably settled into the seat. 

_ Well, I guess that’s something. _

__ He served up the burger with some ketchup and cheese, topping it with a bun and adding a side of fries. Farlan then strolled out to the dining room, sliding the basket of food in front of the odd girl. He took the seat opposite of her as she began to tear into the burger. He chuckled, “Easy now, you don’t wanna get sick from eating too fast.”

To anyone else, it would have seemed like the girl completely ignored him, but Farlan saw that she did ease up on her pace the tiniest bit. He scooted forward, resting his arms on the table as he said, “Alright, I gave you food, now I need some answers. Where did you come from?”

Silence.

“Okay, how about a name? Mine’s Farlan.”

This time she didn’t even look up at him.

“Listen, kid,” the blonde sighed, putting his face in his hand, “if I’m gonna help you, I need to know these things. Can’t you give me something? Anything?” He felt his eye twitch as the girl took another bite out of her sandwich, giving no indication that she’d even heard him speak. His eyes went down to the table, but stopped when he noticed something on the child’s arm. He asked, “Eleven?”

The girl froze, her grey-brown eyes widening in what almost seemed like fear. Farlan’s expression grew curious. He pressed further, “What does that mean?” The girl did nothing, adding to the man’s building annoyance. He gave her another chance, “What’s it mean?” Just as the continued silence was about to make Farlan stomp out, a quiet voice broke the silence.

“No.”

“...No? No, what?”

Insufferable silence once more.

“Fine, no more food then,” the man decided, grabbing the basket away from the child. He stood and began heading toward the kitchen-

“Eleven.”

Farlan stopped, then slowly turned toward the girl in the seat. Now utterly confused, he responded, “Uh, yea, what does it mean?”

A pale, shaking finger brings itself up to her throat. She pointed firmly at herself before repeating, “Eleven.”

_ Her name is… _ Farlan walked back to the table, sliding the basket back to “Eleven” before saying, “Okay, then, nice to meet you Eleven.”

  
  


“Now, over the weekend I expect you all to finish chapter 12 and questions 1 through 12. Remember, we’ll be having a test Monday which will cover chapters 10 through 12. It will be multiple choice and have an essay ques-”

The shrill yell of the dismissal bell interrupted Mr. Smith’s lecturing about the class’s materials, the tall blond watching in dismay as the entire group of students immediately grabbed their supplies and poured out into the hall. He turned back to his desk only to find three kids lined up in front of it, eager smiles on each of their faces.

“So…?” Jean asked, leaning in.

“Did it come?” Eren excitedly blurted, eyes bright with anticipation.

“Sorry boys, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…” All three boys started to deflate, each gaining a look of depression as their excitement faded. Erwin smiled, “It came.”

The trio cheered, brightening up almost instantly as they hurriedly followed the teacher out of the classroom and to the small door labeled ‘AV Club’. He opened the door to reveal a large desk holding a giant, teal colored radio. “The Heathkit ham shack,” Erwin announced. The students rushed passed him into the room, Eren immediately grabbing the headset and Marco instantly changing the dials to different stations. Jean grabbed the microphone, mentioning, “Woah, I bet you could talk to New York with this thing!”

“Think bigger,” Erwin said.

“California?” Eren asked.

“Bigger.”

“Australia?” Marco guessed, growing even more excited. When the teacher nodded, the three exchanged awed looks as they became increasingly enchanted with the device before them.

“Oh man, when Armin sees this, he’s gonna flip his shit-”

“Jean.”

“Sorry…”

Erwin shook his head, smiling as the youngsters fiddled with the radio and “talked” to different countries in silly accents. The fun, however, was cut short by three clipped knocks to the door. The teacher turned and opened it, only to be greeted with the sight of the principal, the chief of police, and a police officer.

The three boys noticed the sudden change in atmosphere and began to pull away from the radio. They grew nervous as the principal looked at them grimly and said, “Eren, Jean, Marco, come to my office. It’s urgent.”

 

The trio of misfits sat in utter shock as the chief spoke in a dark monotone. They couldn’t comprehend what was being said. It just couldn’t be true. Their friend, the cleric of their party, had vanished without a trace. Eren’s fists balled up tightly, his teeth gritting. He refused to believe it. It was just some sick sort of joke. Armin couldn’t be gone. He had to be home sick, or out with his mom, or… Or something! Something other than gone without a trace after one of their many nights of D&D.

Levi looked solemnly at the kids before him, then asked, “Do you three know the route Armin would’ve taken home?”

Eren answered, “Mirkwood.”

“Mirkwood? That’s not a place.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s a road, just the name is made up.”

“Mirkwood is a place from Lord of the Rings,” Jean chimed in. 

Levi deadpanned, “Lord of the Rings.”

“Well, technically the Hobbit,” Marco clarified. 

Eren seethed, “Does it really matter?”

“He asked, psycho!”

“Shut it, Horseface!”

“Okay, both of you shut up,” Levi said, stopping the growing fight in its tracks. “Now, what the hell is this Mirkwood place you’re talking about?”

“It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet,” Marco said, looking intimidated as Levi’s stone-like stare turned to him.

“Alright, I think I know where that is.”

“We can show you if you want,” Eren eagerly said, wanting to help in the search for his best friend. 

“I said, I know it.”

“But we can-”

“Listen, you brats are to head straight home after school. No stopping to help look for your friend, no arcade, just straight home, am I clear?” The chief narrowed his eyes when the boys remained silent for a few beats. He repeated, “Am I  _ clear? _ ”

“Yes,” came the resounding answer. Between Jean and Marco, Eren’s fists clenched ever tighter. He glared down at his shoes.

 

_ I’m going to find you Armin. _

 


	4. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hange is beginning to feel the panic set in. Levi realizes this may not be as simple as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait! Been going through a bit of a rough time lately. Hopefully this chapter doesn't have too many mistakes. Thanks for reading and for your patience! I've also made a blog for this story so please check it out: https://stranger-titans.tumblr.com/

    “Ding-dong! Anyone in there?”

 

“Password?”

 

Hange thought for a moment, stumbling out, “Raga...Radi...Rada...gast? Radagast!”

 

A soft voice replied, “You may enter.” The woman crouched down and crawled through the blanket door of the tiny fort. The outside looked like a small box made out of miscellaneous branches and boards. One branch stood taller than the others, a piece of cloth tied to it like a flag. It was a small hideaway, not easily seen in the surrounding forest. 

Inside, Hange was greeted with the sight of blanketed walls, concealing the outer surface of wood. Pictures were randomly taped all over, some bursting with vivid color while others were simple lines coming together to form an intricate image. The sun outside filtered in dimly, giving a cozy, dream-like feel to the atmosphere. Opposite of the entrance was an old mattress, comforter, and pillow. Atop the bedding was a boy, scrawny with curious eyes and hay colored hair. He was staring at the pad of paper in his lap with soft concentration, carefully deciding the next mark he would make on the in progress picture.

“G’day to you, sir,” Hange said, smiling when Armin grinned at the voice. She sat down next to her son on the mattress, “So, guess what?”

“What?”

“I managed to sneak out early today and...Bam!” Hange whipped two strips of smooth paper from her pocket, grinning madly as she announced, “Poltergeist!”

Armin perked up excitedly, “I thought I wasn’t allowed to see it.”

“Changed my mind, I kind of want to see it too,” the brunette confessed. “But, you can only see it if you promise not to get nightmares for the next week.”

“I won’t,” Armin immediately assured. “I don’t get scared like that anymore.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hange asked, quirking an eyebrow. “What about clowns?”

“No.”

“Witches?”

A huff. “No.”

“What about...TITANS!” The mother cried out, jumping and tickling her son’s sides mercilessly. The blond squealed in laughter, mirth decorating his face like a Christmas tree.

He playfully pleaded, “No! Mom! Ha, mom s-stop! Mom!”

  
  


“Armin?!”

 

Hange poked her head into the small fort, the light it once held gone along with the child she was looking for. Disappointment made her expression sink, but it became determined once more as she backed out of the blanket entrance. She looked around her, the forest tauntingly silent as she continued to call out Armin’s name. 

 

She would find him.

 

She wouldn’t rest until she did.

  
  
  
  
  


“Look, all I know is she’s scared to death and starving,” Farlan said, feeling frustrated at the endless questions. He already told them everything he knew at least five different times; the girl was trying to steal food from his kitchen, barely spoke, and was apparently named after a prime number. He sighed, “I think she might have been kidnapped. At the very least she’s been abused…. Yeah, it would be great if we could get someone over here...4819 Randolph Lane...Yeah, Randolph...Okay, goodbye.”

Hanging up the phone, the man turned to the girl still sitting at the table. She was still munching on her second helping of fries, though at a much slower rate. The amount of apprehension she continued to give off was concerning to say the least, making Farlan wonder what on Earth had happened to the girl to make her so paranoid. 

Without a word, Farlan left to go start cleaning up the kitchen. “Eleven” looked up from the basket of food, popping another fry into her mouth. In the corner of the restaurant stood a rusting, metal fan. It let out an infuriating screech with each and every pivot of its head. The weak spinning of its blades barely even pushed out air, making the torturous noise pointless to sit through. 

At least, that was what Eleven thought.

Her stare hardened menacingly, as if the fan had committed a personal offense against her. The screech of the metal the only thing cutting through the deadly silence the girl had been left in. Her stare grew colder, focusing harder...Harder…

The fan screeched to a stop.

Eleven relaxed and crunched down on another fry. 

  
  


“Armin! Armin Zoe! C’mon, kid, where are ya!” Oluo, one of the few officers of Hawkins, drawled. He had a sort of forced coolness to his voice, as if trying to be someone that he’s not. Beside him another officer, Eld, shook his head at the lack of motivation that seemed to radiate off of his colleague. Levi walked ahead of them, going down the small slope into the woods. He paused.

“Over here,” came the short call, the dark haired man bending down and righting the fallen bicycle. Oluo and Eld walked over to him, both looking at the bike with somewhat of a sinking feeling. 

“Do you think he got hurt in the fall?” Eld asked, looking for any signs of blood on the ground and bike.

“Not so hurt that he couldn’t walk away,” Levi replied. “Besides, kids treat these kind of bikes like Cadillacs. He would’ve taken it home with him.” He stared at the object with a stoic expression before turning and heading back toward his truck. He opened the trunk and put the bike inside, deflating slightly as he already dreaded bringing it back to an undoubtedly distressed Hange. 

 

_ Better get it over with. _

  
  


 

Hange was stuck. She didn’t have anyone else to call, other than Nick. He wouldn’t be any help though; the only thing he ever seemed to show toward Armin was distaste. She took another long drag from the cigarette pinched between her fingers and let out the smoke in a heavy breath. In front of her, the old coffee table was littered with paper, each sheet with the words “HAVE YOU SEEN ME” written in giant letters. The near silent ticking of the clock on the wall was what kept her grounded. Her thoughts had removed themselves from her control ages ago. There were too many possibilities and too little answers. 

She almost regrets sending Historia to school. Perhaps having her other child here would have been better for her. Maybe she could call? Ask for her to be sent home early? No, no that wouldn’t do any good. The brunette had to be a support for her daughter, not the other way around. It was just so hard to focus. What if Armin had been kidnapped? Was being molested? Beaten? Ki-

The sound of gravel on the dusty driveway snapped Hange out of her ever growing anxiety. She looked out the window, standing up when she realized that it was two police vehicles. Quickly, she rushed to the door and threw it open, screeching to a halt on the porch when she saw Levi slowly take out an all too familiar bike from the back of his car. Her heart sank.

 

After a brief explanation of finding Armin’s bike, Levi was now looking around the house, taking in every detail closely. But Hange was close behind with countless questions slipping off the tip of her tongue. “It was just lying there?”

“Yea.” He pointed for Eld to head toward the dining room.

“Was there blood?”

“No.” Oluo was pointed toward the short hallway leading the the bedrooms and bathroom.

“Then, if you found the bike out there, why are you here?”

“Well, he had a key to the house, right?”

“Yea?”

“So, maybe he came home.”

Hange’s eye twitched. “You think I haven’t checked my own house?”

“Didn’t say that,” Levi muttered, continuing to wonder. His eyes locked on to a small hole in the wall, lining up perfectly with the knob of the door to the backyard. He asked, “Has this always been here?”

“Probably. This place is a mess with two kids and all,” Hange responded dismissively, frustration making her a bit short with the chief. 

“You don’t remember,” Levi murmured, sounding more as if it were a statement than a question. He looked out into the backyard, noticing a small shed in the back. He wandered out of the house, heading toward the old fixture. Its splintering wood and uneven roof gave off an eerie appearance. Slowly, Levi pushed open the door and flicked on the light. Various landscaping tools were scattered about, but there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. 

That is, except for the knocked over box of bullets and the empty rack on the wall that was undoubtedly for some sort of gun. Just Levi stepped toward the rungs where the gun should be placed, the single light bulb flickered out. Making a small noise of annoyance, the man bent down and grabbed the flashlight he had spotted a few feet away. The dim light that came from it was just enough to allow Levi to see through the shadows of the rickety shed.

He continued toward the far wall, noticing some boxes in the corner. Upon closer inspection, some of the wooden boxes were broken apart, as if something had crushed them. Levi’s brow furrowed slightly and he leaned forward to take a closer look. The boxes were composed of wood too thick for a child to smash apart. The damage seemed to be screaming that something wasn’t right. Something happened in this shed. Something-

 

Sudden light.

 

“Chief?”

 

“ _ Jesus- _ ” Levi whipped around, his expression livid as he stared down a startle Oluo. Letting his tensed body relax some from the sudden appearance of his subordinate, he grit out, “What, Oluo?”

 

“Sir, we’ve been calling you for awhile,” Oluo explained, nervous of the other lashing out. “What’s going on?”

 

Levi ignored the questioned, giving the corner of the shed one last looked before brushing past Oluo and storming out toward the house. He heard Oluo call out after him, but he ignored him. Eld stood by the door to the house, looking concerned as Levi made a beeline in his direction. The dark haired man ordered, “Call the station, get a search party going, gather up all of the volunteers you two can find. Bring flashlights, too.”

“You think we might actually have a problem here, Chief?” Eld asked, but the only answer he received was the brush of the chief’s shoulder as he made his way back into the house with quick, purposeful steps.

  
  
  


In the small town of Hawkins, word travels quickly. Several locals volunteered to help find the missing child, dawning raincoats and brandishing flashlights to accompany the police into the dark forest. There were, however, some who hesitated helping the search. Of course, Hange was a kind and respectable woman, albeit a bit odd, but Armin… Armin was just a bit  _ too  _ odd. Whispers that spread amongst children quickly fell into the ears of adults. Indulging in reading and drawing instead of sports and rough housing. Reserved and a bit too smart for his own good. Suspicions that he might enjoy the company of other boys a bit too much. A hurricane of reasons condensed down into a simple excuse of being busy when asked about the refusal to search for the blonde.

    There weren’t enough people helping. They needed more volunteers to properly search the area. Needed volunteers who knew the area. Volunteers like Eren, Jean, and Marco-

    “Eren, you are not going out there.”

    The brunette seethed, countering back at his mother, “We should be helping them!”

    “We’ve been over this,” Carla sighed, cutting into her meal. “The Chief said-”

    “I don’t care what the Chief says!”

    “Eren-!”

    “We have to do something,” Eren continued. “Armin could be in danger!”

    “All the more reason to stay put.”

    “Mom-!”

    “End of discussion,” Carla said, her words leaving no room for argument. 

    Ymir looked between her mother and her brother, lips pursed as the tense silence hung over the table. She saw Carla give Grisha an annoyed look, most likely irked by the lack of support. A few more beats passed before the freckled girl said, “So, I have to go out and take some pictures for my photography class. That’s cool, right?”

    “No, not cool.”

    “What? Why not?”

    “Why do you think?” Carla gave Ymir an exasperated look, her patience running thin. “Until we know Armin is okay, no one leaves.”

    “This is such bullshit-”

    “Language,” Grisha drawled, his attention focused solely on his meal.

    Ymir rolled her eyes before continuing, “Let me get this straight, you’re putting us under house arrest just because Eren’s friend managed to get himself lost on the way home-”

    “Wait, so now this is Armin’s fault?!” Eren demanded, outrage written all over his face.

    Carla’s expression hardened, “Ymir, take that back.”

    “No.”

    “You’re just upset because I actually have friends! All you have is your stupid camera!”

    “Fuck off-”

    “Language,” Grisha said again, though this time a bit louder. 

    “Whatever, I’m going to my room,” Ymir growled, shoving herself away from the table and stomping toward the stairs. She ignored Carla’s yells for her to come back, continuing up to her room and slamming the door.

    A moment of silence hung over the family before Grisha commented, “You see, Eren? You see what happens when you-”

    “When what?!” Eren snarled, his eyes blazing. “I’m the only one acting normal here! I’m the only one who actually cares about Armin!”

    “That’s not fair,” Grisha responded, continuing to munch on his food. “We care.”

    Eren stared at his father for a moment in disbelief before slamming his hands on either side of his plate and leaving the table. After he disappeared up the stairs, Carla gave her husband a look that spoke a thousand words. “I hope you’re enjoying your chicken, Grisha.”

  
  


    “Jean, do you copy?” Eren asked, holding his walkie talkie close as he waited for a reply. “It’s Eren. Jean?”

    “It’s Jean-”

    “I know it’s you, horseface,” Eren interrupted. “And say over when you’re done so I know you’re done, over.”

    “What the hell do you want, Jaeger?” A beat of silence. “Over.”

    “...I’m worried about Armin, over.”

    “Yea,” Jean sighed, the sound of rustling playing through the walkie as he rolled over on his bed. “This whole thing is just insane, over.”

    “Listen, I was thinking… Last night, Armin could’ve cast protection but he didn’t. He cast fireball, over.”

    “...And?...Over.”

    “He could’ve played it safe, but he didn’t. He put himself in danger to help the party. Over.”

    A brief pause. 

 

    “...Meet me in ten, over and out.”

 


End file.
